


Badges of Honor

by leporidae



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Police, Gen, Illustrated, M/M, March to Deliverance Zine 2018, Stakeout
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-26 00:30:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15652086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leporidae/pseuds/leporidae
Summary: New police recruits Forsyth and Python are assigned to a stakeout by their superior officer, Lukas.(Whether or not they take the assignment seriously is another matter entirely.)





	Badges of Honor

**Author's Note:**

> Today's the day I can finally post my fic for the [March to Deliverance Zine!](https://twitter.com/MTD_Zine/) I had a lot of fun writing this, and working with so many hardworking and talented people was such an honor. I couldn't have been happier to be part of this project. Please check out everyone else's art and writing, it's all incredible.
> 
> The wonderful [Tai](https://www.instagram.com/tai_hato/) drew the illustration for my fic for the zine, and I couldn't love it more. Please check them out on Instagram, their art is amazing!

Arms clasped behind his back and posture impeccably straight, Forsyth stands at attention in front of his new boss’s office, eagerly awaiting the moment the door creaks open and Lukas calls him and Python inside to give them their first assignment.

Since childhood, Forsyth has always pictured himself some kind of _arbitrator of justice_. Perhaps the descriptor is a bit too dramatic, but he can’t help but feel his heart soar at the thought of serving the people to the utmost of his abilities. Recently in Valentia, the chief of police, Clive, has garnered quite the reputation settling disputes and organizing large-scale community service projects. Admittedly, the police have fallen somewhat out of favor due to the public’s perception that they look down upon the common people, but that isn’t going to stop Forsyth from trying his damndest to help change that impression.

A nudge in his side from Python snaps him back to attention, and Forsyth finally notices that the door has indeed opened amidst his daydreams. Lukas is beckoning to him with a bemused expression —  _oh gods, how long has he been standing there? —_  and Forsyth scurries in quickly. Python trails into the office behind him and kicks the door shut unceremoniously, earning him a sour glare from Forsyth.

“Forsyth and Python, am I correct?” Lukas asks after seating himself behind a desk stacked precariously high with paperwork and gesturing for his guests to take their seats as well. “Clive spoke very highly of you.”

It’s not lost on Forsyth that Lukas is looking directly to him and not Python, and he shudders to think what sort of bad impression Python had made in his interview, but he pushes the thought from his mind. Instead he nods a bit too vigorously, like a bobblehead. “A-absolutely, sir! I mean — ah, thank you. Of course.” Warmth rises to his cheeks as Python, legs sprawled inappropriately wide in his chair, snickers audibly.

Lukas blinks slowly. “Ah. Well —” Though taken aback by Forsyth’s enthusiasm, he recovers quickly. “If it puts your mind at ease, we rarely assign new recruits anything particularly taxing for their first time on the job. There should be no surprises — it’s not as though we’re hazing you, after all.”

“Shame, would’ve been more fun that way,” Python mutters under his breath.

Lukas grimaces, but chooses not to respond.

“Please forgive him,” Forsyth says quickly. “It’s just his sense of humor.”

As Python grumbles with indignation, Lukas’s lips press into a thin line, and Forsyth can tell he doesn’t know what to say.

_Well, this meeting is off to a wonderful start._

He just prays Python can keep his damn mouth shut for the rest of it.

* * *

The assignment Lukas gives them is a simple one. A convenience store near the station had reported a suspected theft to the police, and Forsyth and Python are instructed to take a police vehicle and station themselves in front of the premises on the off chance the perpetrator returns to the scene, making note of any suspicious activity other than the arrival of the woman who works the night shift. Lukas had described the task as _nothing particularly taxing, but something I’m sure the two of you can handle_ — a statement which he had once again directed solely at Forsyth.

But after barely an hour into the stakeout, Forsyth’s patience with his friend is already running rather thin. Python’s boredom is manifesting in all sorts of irritating ways: tapping his feet, yawning loudly, unlocking and locking the car door repeatedly, and playing with the air freshener on the dashboard. A few minutes prior, he had pulled a bag of orange candies from who knows where and is now eating them by the handful, smacking his lips loudly as the scent of orange permeates the interior of the car. If they hadn’t been in the middle of an assignment, Forsyth would have stepped out to get fresh air ages ago (and not just to get away from the cloying orange smell).

“Put those away,” Forsyth finally grits out. In response, Python drags the candy across his teeth with his tongue, the resulting _clack clack clack_ raising the hair on the back of Forsyth’s neck. “Stop that,” he says, tone more weary than stern. “You’re giving me a headache.”

With a roll of his eyes, Python tosses the bag haphazardly into the glove compartment, and Forsyth winces when a few spill out into unretrievable crevasses. “You nag like a bitter old lady,” he mutters.

Forsyth’s chest puffs indignantly. “And I happen to think you’re acting childish. I helped you get this job, and I feel you aren’t taking it seriously. But I think this could be our chance to turn over a new leaf together, to set aside our pride and lift up those who can’t stand on their own!  Right, Python? Python…? Hey!” When there’s no response, he glances over to see Python’s eyes narrowing into sleepy slits as he drifts off sitting up, and Forsyth elbows him with a scowl. “You can’t fall asleep while we’re in the middle of a stakeout! What if the perpetrator shows up in the few minutes you’ve decided to check out? We have to be ever vigilant!”

Python’s eyes gradually open, and he grimaces, sinking lower into the passenger seat. “Well, luckily you’ve got it covered, then,” he mutters drily. “You can be alert enough for the both of us.”

With an indignant huff, Forsyth lightly punches his partner’s shoulder. “That is absolutely _not_ how this works! The whole point of pairing up is to watch each other’s backs! What am I supposed to tell Lukas if your lack of vigilance costs us the mission?”

A pause. “Don’t tell him anything, then?”

It’s this quality of Python’s that makes him so exhausting despite their shared history — his complete and utter lackadaisical indifference. How many times during their tenure at university had Forsyth been forced to wake Python to drag him to class, acted as the designated driver when Python had passed out at another party, and made excuses when Python had shown up late for a commitment? But the time for youthful irresponsibility is over, and Forsyth absolutely refuses to let even his closest friend shatter the dream he’d worked so hard for. If Python wants to get himself kicked off the force with his awful attitude, that’s his own business, but there’s only so much Forsyth can babysit him. At some point, Python is going to have to either grow up or face the consequences.

Steeling himself to be stern, Forsyth opens his mouth to begin the overdue lecture — but he can’t. Truth be told, it would be lonely without Python there, filling the silence with his irritating candy-eating noises and cynical worldviews. Lukas, Clive, Mathilda, and everyone else on the force are admirable and worthy of his utmost respect. But they’re not the man who whisks Forsyth away to bars to ease his anxiety, the man who wholeheartedly supports Forsyth despite not relating to his enthusiasm, the man who plays the much-needed role of the realist when Forsyth gets lost in his own mind as the idealist.

They aren’t Python.

“That’s —” As Forsyth struggles to formulate a response that strikes the proper balance of appreciation and exasperation, a movement in the darkness catches his eye, and he falls silent to focus. Across the street, a single car pulls into a space on the far side of the lot, and a silhouette steps out, barely visible in the flickering neon light of the storefront.

“Ah! Who is that?”

Python sits up comically fast, nearly smashing his forehead against the dashboard of the car. “Wha— huh?! Oi — that’s just the lady who works the night shift. Remember? The one _our lord and savior_ Lukas told us about?”

“...Oh.” Now Forsyth is more than a little embarrassed, cursing himself for getting distracted and wound up over nothing. Python isn’t the kind of person who graciously lets him live down his overreactions, either.

“Dammit, Fors, you near gave me a heart attack!” Python scoffs. “Seriously, dial down the freak out before you shave ten years off my life.”

Forsyth watches the woman rummage in her pocket, pulling out the keys to unlock the door, and sighs. “Er, my apologies.” More humiliating than the panic is the reality that sleepy Python had paid better attention to Lukas than jittery Forsyth. So much for being the responsible one.

“So...“ Python taps his chin thoughtfully, a gesture which would be comically serious if not for the dangerous grin spreading across his lips. “That woman working in the convenience store — what do you think her life’s like, eh?”

Forsyth fidgets, clasping his hands together in his lap a bit too tightly, and ponders with dread the degenerate turns this conversation will inevitably take. Once Python is bored and his gossip switch turns on, there’s no stopping him until he has completely stripped any semblance of decency from the poor stranger’s hypothetical life. “Well, clearly she’s a hard-working member of society,” he says, trying in vain to derail the impending fantasy. “She — she works the night shift, which is brave as well as undesirable, so I find her efforts… _commendable_.”

Python glares at him with such disdain that Forsyth finds himself somehow guilty that his guesses had aired on the conservative side. “Is that really the best you got?”

“Um… yes,” Forsyth admits. He’s never understood the perverse pleasure Python gleans from idle fancy, observing a couple cuddling on a park bench and theorizing what their next argument will be about, or fabricating absurd _after dark_ scenarios for the quiet loner sitting alone with a cup of coffee. Forsyth himself has never been in a relationship, so it seems intrusive somehow to even speculate about the romantic affairs of strangers when he has no personal experience in that department.

Python rolls his eyes. “Loosen that collar of yours before it chokes the remaining fun out of you, Officer Prude. How ‘bout this: I’ll start, then you can add onto it. That way, this story will be a real fine collaborative effort.”

“I’d really rather we didn’t —”

“So this woman,” Python says quickly, completely steamrolling Forsyth’s weak protest, “clearly comes into work tired every night, because she’s got those dreadful bags under her eyes. And she wouldn’t take the night shift if she wasn’t a little desperate, right? So I’m thinking she’s got some freeloader of a boyfriend —”

“Or girlfriend,” Forsyth interjects in a squeak, the words slipping out before he can will himself to stop participating in this madness. When Python stops, blinking at Forsyth with one eyebrow raised, he feels the sudden urge to clarify his outburst, though already he regrets contributing at all. “Er — I simply meant, that perhaps it’s narrow-minded to assume…”

Normally, when Python laughs after he speaks, it’s a mocking laugh, a sort of sarcastic scoff that prompts Forsyth to glance away and grit his teeth. This time, when Python laughs, it’s one of genuine amusement, a relaxed chuckle Forsyth rarely hears the likes of, even when Python is completely wasted and draped over the table at the bar near their university. “All right, all right, whatever. My apologies for ruffling your feathers with my lack of inclusivity.”

“My feathers are not _ruffled,_ thank you very —”

“Give me a girl’s name.”

“Huh?”

Python sighs. “C’mon, get with it. We’re makin’ up a story here. Can’t just not name the characters.” Forsyth considers interjecting that this “character” of his is a real, bonafide person that they are unfairly defaming through a fantasy, but he’s also aware Python is impossible to derail once he’s gotten into a… _creative_ mood.

“Lu…” Embarrassingly, the first name that floats to the top of Forsyth’s mind is that of his superior officer, which he begins to say before catching himself. “Er... Lucy.”

“Hmm…” Python taps his chin, considering the suggestion, before his typical wily grin returns. “A regular ol’ Lucy by day, but at night, she goes by her alias…” Voice dropping to a whisper, he leans in a bit too close, and Forsyth’s heart stutters. _“Lucy Garments.”_

It takes but a second for Forsyth to grasp the implications of the horrible wordplay, and with a yelp of disgust he pushes a cackling Python backwards into his own car seat. “What did that poor convenience store lady ever to do you to deserve such… defamation?” he sputters. _And what did I do to deserve such a crude and unsavory companion?_

(Not that he’d give Python up for anything.)

Hearty laughter continues to shake Python. “I’m kiddin’, get a grip. But boy, if you could see the look on your face, like a bee just stung your ass.”

“Lovely imagery,” Forsyth grumbles.

“I try,” Python says unfazed, reaching between them for his open bag of annoyingly loud candies to pop another between his lips. “But I’ll leave you be to glue your eyes to that door in case a giant, fire-breathing Necrodragon jumps out of the convenience store and torches the city block. Then you’ll have somethin’ to report to Lucy — I mean, Lukas.”

Heat flushes Forsyth’s cheeks, and he looks away with a huff. One minute passes with no words spoken between them, then several. No more offending sounds are emitting from the passenger’s seat, either. Had Python finally taken his complaints to heart, or had he simply fallen asleep after all?

Either way, Forsyth finds himself oddly restless.

“Python.”

His eyes squint open, catlike, to acknowledge he’s heard. “Mmm?”

“You never finished speculating about the shocking, tabloid life of, er… Lucy Garments.”

_Even I could use a bit of silliness in my life now and again, I suppose._

This time, when Python laughs, it truly is a wicked one. “Oh? Didn’t realize you had such a raunchy side, Fors.”

“I do not have a —!”

“In that case, you better be ready. I’ve got plenty more material where that came from.”

Not five minutes later, Forsyth already regrets playing along.

* * *

 

“So in summary,” Lukas says, looking up from the mountainous stack of documents piled upon his desk, “there was no suspicious activity, everything went as planned, and there is no cause for further concern, correct?”“Aye,” Python drawls, barely suppressing a yawn, and Forsyth elbows him in the side. “Uh, I mean – _yessir_. So, can we leave already?”

Lukas sighs. Forsyth glances from the weary face of his superior to the mug of coffee by the keyboard of his computer, and for the first time he notices how impossibly tired Lukas looks, the stoic calm barely masking emotional exhaustion, loneliness even, the cause for which Forsyth can’t even begin to imagine. Sympathy swells in his chest as he realizes that his mentor, who at first he had so blindly admired, has more in common with Python than he’d thought.

And when Python is consumed with that empty loneliness, he drinks.

“Ah, um — Lukas, sir,” Forsyth stammers. “Forgive me if this question is presumptuous, sir, and unbefitting of my rank, but —”

He falls silent as Lukas slowly raises a hand to quiet him. “I don’t care much about rank,” he says. “I appreciate the respect, Forsyth, but just ‘Lukas’ is fine.”

“Right — right, sir —  _Lukas_ ,” Forsyth manages, ignoring the painfully audible snort from Python. “I was only wondering if tomorrow night —” A swallow. “If you would like to join Python and myself for a drink after work.” He doesn’t need to glance over to know that Python is raising an eyebrow at the invitation, since usually Python is the one making the bad life decisions while Forsyth begrudgingly tags along.

“A drink? You mean, a social —” Lukas coughs lightly, quickly regaining his composure, but Forsyth had not missed the flicker of doubt in his eyes. “Ah, yes, of course. Well, I should be free.” One hand absently clasps around the handle of the mug atop his desk, fingernail lightly tapping the ceramic as he speaks. “Thank you for the offer, Forsyth. But I must remind you that you are not by any means obligated to reach out to me simply because we are colleagues —”

“Absolutely not!” Forsyth practically shouts, then slaps both hands across his mouth as Python snickers. Even Lukas appears to be fighting back a smile. “I genuinely wish to get to know you as a person, sir! Er — Lukas.”

“And who knows,” Python says, smiling his most devilish smile. “Maybe Sir Lukas here’ll be better company for dreaming up all the dirty details of Lucy Garments’ _scandalous_ personal life.” The word slithers off his tongue, indecent as his intentions, and Forsyth half expects Lukas to fire the both of them on the spot.

To Lukas’s credit, if he’s taken aback by Python’s behavior, he doesn’t show it. “Lucy...?”

“It’s nothing!” Forsyth practically shouts, wishing more than ever to crawl under his superior’s desk and die. “I — I mean. It’s an inside joke.” Mortification is not a strong enough word for what he’s feeling right now. “Anyway. Tomorrow…?”

Lukas laughs softly. “I already agreed. Perhaps,” he adds with a wink, “you and Python can tell me more about this _Lucy Garments_ after we’ve all had a few drinks, hmm?”

When they leave Lukas’s office, Forsyth’s face is flushed red from his ears to his neck. “Python! Why’d you bring that up?! I thought we agreed to keep that little, er, _jaunt of the imagination_ between us!”

A shrug. “Who knows, Fors. Maybe our serious superior has a secret salacious side.”

Unfortunately, that’s all Forsyth can think about for the rest of the day, as he considers their upcoming engagement with an anxious mixture of excitement and dread.

Whatever happens, Forsyth is certain it will be a night to remember.


End file.
